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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29346744">Queenie's Prompt Challenge</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathouse_mary/pseuds/cathouse_mary'>cathouse_mary</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Inbound Flight (Fanwork - Star Wars), Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, I am 100 percent that writer, M/M, Thranto, lovers and enemies at the same time, oh my god they were roommates, sappy OC couple, tags will change</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:22:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,799</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29346744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathouse_mary/pseuds/cathouse_mary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the following prompts for Queenie's choice of pairings, written in her Inbound Flight: For Home and Song<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493898">universe</a>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Formbi |Chaf'orm'bintrano/Thrass | Mitth'ras'safis, Mitth'ilv'onei/Mitth'ras'safis, Original Imperial Male Character (Star Wars)/Original Female Civilian Character (Star Wars), Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Love is a Dart in the Ass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenieWithABeenie/gifts">Queenie Chi Cosplay (QueenieWithABeenie)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompts:</p><p>7 “Do you need anything else?”<br/>15 "You’re all drugged up. You don’t know what you’re saying."<br/>43 "Come on, it’s me. I’m good at this sort of stuff, remember?"<br/>52 “Does my being half-naked bother you?”<br/>69 “You and I are not finished.”</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nobody understands what they have; perhaps especially not Formbi and Thrass. </p><p>All anyone knows is that Formbi and Thrass have been at each other's throats and in each other's robes since about the age of eighteen while pretending to do no such thing. Yet it was Formbi who protected Thilvon and two small children until Thrass was found and home. It was the Chaf family who sheltered them in the latest round of the Ascendancy pulling itself apart, but it was Formbi who hit Thrass with a trank dart and took charge of him. </p><p>Thrass, like a properly over-the-top Mitth, managed a half-turn to glare at Formbi just before the dose dropped him to the floor in an elegant (and dramatic because Mitth) puddle of robes and flowing black locks. Formbi gathered him up and carried him off with Thrass slurring his words into unintelligibility before ultimately surrendering to the sedation. Once he was peeled and stuffed into a bed to sleep it off, Formbi elected to forestall any escape attempts by removing all clothing and any possible substitutes from Thrass' room. Then he put a comfortable reading chair at bedside, put on his favorite robe, and read as Thrass snored softly and drooled on his pillow.</p><p>Mitth. So loose they throw their hearts at other people and get them smashed to bits. Formbi's fingers might sneak over and stroke Thrass' hair to further disarray from time to time, but other than that, Formbi leaves him in peace.</p><p>Until.</p><p>"Coward."</p><p>Formbi looks up, a glass of something Kivu-brewed and acceptable in his hand. </p><p>"Bastard." Thrass continues, still as blurred and slurred as they were the night after graduation and before Thrass' wedding day.</p><p>"I assure you, Ras, I admit to utter cowardice. My parents, however, were married and had previously deposited all five of my sisters before birthing me."</p><p>"I need to get back to my wife." </p><p>Formbi rolls his eyes. "Mitth dramatics. You need to sleep, eat, and bathe while the squeaky pens do their work coaxing her back to life. She is too stubborn to die." He cocks his head and considers. "She should have been born Chaf."</p><p>Thrass, when properly motivated, gives a stunning and eloquent performance. His oratory skills are unmatched. It's a pity that he chooses to use those skills to vent a torrent of profanity and call Formbi everything but a child of the universe.</p><p>"You’re all drugged up. You don’t know what you’re saying."  Formbi fans himself before taking a drink of the flagrantly fruity Kivu brew. "Come on, it’s me. I’m good at this sort of stuff, remember?" <br/>Since their tertiary schooling, actually, and his skills have only been honed in the years since. In fact, he's the reason this squeaky pen colonial met his wife in the first place. All this because Formbi would not let Thrass out of their rooms in that horrid, grandfatherly robe with his hair in a messy man-bun. Thrass hisses, his brain reeling from drugs, wild emotions, and that bloody-minded streak present in every Kivu. </p><p>"For someone who is hissing at me like an affronted pusheen tyom, you certainly are looking at my chest, aren't you?" Kivu. Just give them another target and off they go as if on tracks. Formbi's fingers trace the open collar and the slice of skin underneath it. “Does my being half-naked bother you?”</p><p>"You bother me. Full stop."</p><p>The poor thing tries to sit up and flops back down as if clubbed - Formbi briefly but unseriously entertains the thought - before hissing at him again. Draining the last of his drink, Formbi sets aside his questis before lifting the blankets and getting under them, robe and all. Thrass is so engaging when he's being horrified.</p><p>"Hush. The bed's warm, and you need to go back to sleep. We both know that you can't otherwise." Thrass is a clingy, sweet pillow prince and Thilvon knows it because she married him. Formbi settles his head on the pillow, nose to nose with nemesis and desire. "You and I are not finished, Thrass. Is there anything else you need?''</p><p>Formbi's lips brush Thrass' on the last word, and in the next breath he has Thrass' fingers in his hair and his answer from Thrass' lips against his.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Head Empty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lares Kanas misses his wife, dammit.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompts for Lares/Mesara.</p><p>5 “You see, this is the part where you tell me you’re proud of me.”  <br/>21 “Sometimes I think you have a deathwish."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as Lares could get his shuttle down to the surface of Rentor - without being strafed - he had his boots on the ice and was looking for Mesara. Sy Bisti is the common tongue of the Chaos, but all he has to do is mime Mesara's glasses and say 'wife.' The Chiss' red eyes go wide at that, and they willingly bring him to the spots where she was last seen.</p><p>With a Mandalorian, apparently. They were in the ground battle. Lares pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. </p><p>He hears Commander Pyrondi behind him mutter. "Head empty. There is only wife."</p><p>"Quiet, you."</p><p>It's a sea of Chiss, his grey-armored troopers, and the glint of pure Beskar as a sunbeam breaks from the clouds. Next to that, a smaller figure with Mesara's fishbone spineguard and fishtail ass cover. In a semicircle around them is what must be the local command. Lares alters course, going through the wall of backs, and arrowing right for Mesara as she turns her head, helmet on her hip. Oh, she lights up to see him - the Force around her a golden glory as she comes to meet him. </p><p>Pyrondi sighs, "Head empty. There is only husband."</p><p>Then Mesara is in his arms after three months, and there is nothing but her light and his joining again. When he breaks the kiss, one could hear the proverbial pin drop.</p><p>"Sometimes I think you have a deathwish, wife of my heart." </p><p>She's exhausted, battle-worn, her armor a testament to the ferocity of the fight. The next thing he does is draw her into another kiss. There's coughing, throat clearing that he's vaguely aware of, but they have been too long from each other's arms. Mesara breaks the kiss slowly, a torrent of images and emotions swirling into one another from their minds. </p><p>"You see, this is the part when you say that you're proud of me." </p><p>And he should be, the memories she shows him are about the defeat of a monstrous evil, but more than anything about Mesara casting off her fear. The one so desperate for stability, for safety and surety, fought like a nexu to make sure that others would live and thrive in freedom.</p><p>"Tooka, I have always been proud of you. You have always been a warrior, heart and soul. It fills me with joy that you know it now."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Like Sunsnow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When your lover/friend/wingman is an asshole, but a devious asshole.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Formbi/Thrass: “Of course you’re tired, you haven’t slept in two days.” </p><p>Thrass/Thilvon:  “Why…why did you just take off your shirt?“ and “What? You want my heart? My soul? Go head, take them. Take everything I have.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vurass is going to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needs to call Vurawn and have him write this stupid essay about Sith influence on Chiss art circa 5000 years ago. Then again, maybe not. Vurawn is an extortionate little bastard for an eight-year old who would then buy something that would cause wrath from their parents. Last time it was mortar-launched fireworks from a black marketeer (how a child of seven found a black market for anything is an unsettling question) and while the show was immense fun, the local authorities had been unamused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of their presentations to their professors, all group projects, nearly a dozen essays, and exams are hammered into one hellish week and thank every particle of matter in the universe that he's on break after this. He's going to sleep until classes go in again. For now, he can't sleep and neither can Formbi, who is incredibly overdressed for shoveling caffeine powder into his yap and washing it down with a fizzi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is it working?" Vurass ventures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. It's stopped. I've fried my caffeine receptors." Formbi grumbles. "Desperate measures are needed. I'm so tired."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course you're tired. You haven't slept in two days. Back home we'd do calisthenics, go out and have a dip, then run back in." Thrass shuts the completed project and rests his head on the table. "It was good to get you through."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"On Rentor, even colder than Csilla. What did you do - dip in the ocean?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to stay awake, not wake up dead." Thrass rolls his eyes. "You </span>
  <em>
    <span>fu'kin'onderr</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You jump into the melt."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The fountains in front of the library are still on." Formbi makes a face at him, then looks at the caffeine crystals and grumbles. "I wanted to go to that party."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You want to pass or your Patriel will put her boot prints all over your pretty ass." It would be a mistake to think that Formbi had little in the way of brains in his pretty head. He had plenty of smarts, even brilliance, little of it directed at his education. "I'm going to do a run and jump in. You with me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why not. Nobody's tried to kill me lately." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five minutes later, they're in athletics, running across the Hell Week-silenced campus as if their butts are on fire and their hair is catching. Formbi runs well for a lazy man, trying to pull ahead of him, but Vurass has endurance from both his birthplace and chasing his baby brother. They arrive at the fountain, Formbi winded and laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Go in first, Vurass. I'll hold your things."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass gave him a look. Formbi is a… more than friend… but also a duplicitous and tricksome bastard. More than a friend. Vurass strips off his shirt and running shoes, takes off his athletic pants, and drapes the towel over them. Something's prickling at the back of his neck, but he dismisses it as the cold as his feet leave the lip of the fountain and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And finds it's deeper than it looks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swims the the shallow end and clambers out, cold already slowing his movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Formbi, don't jump in that end. Deep!" The minute the air hits his skin, Thrass is enough of a Rentor child to know he's in trouble. "Formbi?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoes and his towel are on the lip of the fountain and there is not hide nor hair of that Chaf bastard. Shivering and as naked as the day he was born, Thrass stumbles to the towel and wraps it around his waist before jamming his numbing feet back into his athletic shoes. He manages, calling his flatmate and frequent bedmate, everything he could think of in his native dialect. It's going to be a long walk back, and towel around waist he sets out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he dies, his parents will kill him. And Vurawn will get his stuff. That can't happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass focuses every bit of brainpower on getting back to the residence block and into his own bed. It's going to be a lot of nights of him not being in that Chaf bastard's bed. He's so focused on not sleeping with Formbi the Chaf Bastard that Vurass utterly fails to notice the girl he fell on his face for running after him and yelling his name until she is right in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kivu'ras'safis!" She stops him with her hot hands on his shoulders. "What in the rings of every hell are you doing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mitth'ilv'onei!" He manages to bow to the Mitth blood-daughter without falling on his face. "I'm walking back home."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands move from his shoulders to his face, warm hands. Perfume. She's dressed for a party. He's too cold to blush, so that's good at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're walking hypothermic. I have my speeder, where's your flat?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right there!" Thrass points triumphantly to the block, feeling much better, much warmer just to see it. On some level, he knows feeling warm right now is not a good thing. "42-10." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes off her </span>
  <em>
    <span>wis'savva</span>
  </em>
  <span> fur coat and wraps him in it, then pulls his arm across her shoulders while wrapping her arm around his waist. Then, to Vurass' protests and her total disregard of them, she all but carries him into the lobby, into the lift, and down the hall to the student flat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine. I'm good." And now that he's somewhere warm, Vurass' fingers and toes are burning, and the ice in his hair crackles when he moves his head. "Jussssst ffffine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bedroom?" She has not let go aside from de-coating him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Left, but-" Vurass is herded into his room, and then his towel is whipped from his hips which leaves him yelping in the middle of his bedroom floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No time for maidenly modesty, pretty boy." She pats his bottom. "Into bed. Hop."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass falls onto his bed in astonishment, only to have his shoes forcibly removed and the rest of him shoved into bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll be back in a moment. Stay." She rolls the blankets over him to the shoulders and then tucks him in. "Where's the controller?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fr' what?" He doesn't think that he can move if his life depended on it. "Don't think it has one."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The one to warm up your bed." Mitth'ilv'onei speaks slowly and softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He definitely doesn't have one of those. Oh, she is beautiful.  And he might have said that out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll be right back. Don't move." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass feels very heavy, very tired, and cold to the bone - he can only nod as his eyelids drag themselves shut and blackness rolls over him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until something lands on him. Vurawn drags his eyes open, intending to protest when he sees Mitth'ilv'onei rolling down her stockings, her shirt open. Her skirt and the rest of her clothing are draped over his reading chair, and she looks up at him, then drapes the shirt over an arm of the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why…why did you just take off your shirt?“ Vurass asks. "Not that I'm objecting at all."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You need to get warm, Vurass." She lifts the blankets, grabs a mug of tea, and slides in next to him. "Drink this." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a good thing that he's hypothermic, his body and mind are too befuddled to try to figure this out. She's a goddess, a stunning young goddess climbing into his bed. Mitth'ilv'onei presses the mug to his lips, ordering him to drink as she arranges a double thickness of blankets over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"These are Formbi's" He tells her, but she has to know that because she'd have to take them from his room. "These are his blankets."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They are, and he left you to nearly freeze to death. If I didn't know to attribute this to stupidity instead of malice, I'd be calling home right now." She tilts the cup against his mouth. "Drink. And if he's got a problem with my taking them, he can walk onto the ice and die mad about it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drinks, warmth blooming behind his breastbone. Mitth'ilv'onei does not take the mug from his lips until it's empty. Vurass' brain is reeling as if he's downed a whole bottle of icewine as she eases him down to the pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has the most amazing smile and he can't help but smile in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You want my heart? My soul? Go head, take them." He means every word. She's lovely. Like a sunsnow. "Take everything I have.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shhh. Pretty Kivu." Her lips press against his forehead and her skin, her everything is warm against him. "Sleep. I'll keep you warm."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass wants to stay awake, just to look at her, but he's warmer and tired and she slides further down into the bed. He's losing the fight to keep his eyes open, but just before sleep takes him, he feels her fingers in his hair.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Lord of Misrule</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Formbi and Vurass discover more chaos than they can handle.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All this for ONE line of dialogue! ONE!</p><p>Thrass/Thilvon prompt: 42 "She has the heart of a lion."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Chiss are a disciplined people, they know that and make sure all of space knows that. However, their holidays are stellar examples of what happens when you keep the cork in while shaking the bottle. Controlled chaos and hedonism rule the day after solemn commemorations and remembrance. Public feasts and going without familial colors are student diversions after Hell Week, with Copero being no different and possibly slightly off the scale. Anything can happen, Formbi knows this, but somehow he never expected the chaos of Waking Earth to manifest in the form of children in his and Vurass' university flat, munching away on cookies in the early morning hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that he was stone cold sober last night, so closing his eyes and shaking his head doesn't do a damn thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are two girls, one older and one younger. One with the high cheekbones and aristocratic mein of a Ruling Family dressed in Irizi deep purple slashed with white mourning, the other girl with curly hair and garbed in Kiwu blazing orange, and a small boy dressed in… Kivu russet orange-brown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, good morning. I had no idea that company was coming." Formbi raises an eyebrow, and moves to turn on the kettle. "How did you get in here without setting off the alarms?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Irizi girl speaks before the others open their mouths - typical. "Kivu'raw'nuru picked the locks and bypassed the security systems, while Kiwu'tro'owmis and I disabled the autolocks with magnets."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Formbi had not believed Vurass when he complained about his brilliant and borderline-criminal little brother. Good to have independent confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I see. And you would be-?" He's betting that she's one of the blood-daughters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am Irizi'ara'lani." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am Chaf'orm'bintrano. My sympathy for the loss to your house." The house colors slashed with white mean that it's a close relative, for a line relative she'd be all in white. "I'd not heard the news."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face tightens and she nods, but says nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, how did you all come to be here?" He could call his Patriel - his oldest sister - or he could go right to the source. There are several Kiwu and Irizi students he can name off the top of his head. "Something tells me that the transport lines are not booking children."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of the girls look at the baby Kivu until his jaw loosens. "I wanted to see Ras. So I got into a cargo box on a Kiwu freighter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I saw him and followed him." Little Kiwu is next to speak. "I'm not supposed to be here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And finally the Irizi speaks, "I saw them outside the spaceport here, and decided to help Vurawn find his brother."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What were you doing outside the spaceport?" Formbi already knows the answer, but the Irizi won't tell him. Politics between the ruling families are a bloodsport and she knows him for a Chaf. "Very well, you're all going to have some tea, then I'll wake up Vurass and we'll get everything sorted."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much of a chance as he has to take the Irizi girl hostage, he won't do it. That's kicking a kid when she's down. Formbi likes to think that he has lines that he will not cross. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't have to wake me, you chatterbox." Vurass comes out of his… their… but still his room tying the drawstring on his sleep pants. "What is hell-" His eyes rivet on his little brother, whose lip is wobbling dangerously. "Raw."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faster than one might think a sturdy eight-year-old might move, Vurawn is off like a shot to his brother. The impact knocks Vurass onto the couch, and his eyes are shining with tears as he hugs the boy to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What happened? Raw?" The only answer is Vurawn burying his face in his brother's neck as silent sobs shake his body. "Formbi, did he say-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Only that he and young Kiwu here stowed away in a cargo box to come here. And young Irizi thought two children ought not to be on their own." Formbi has a flash of hope. Thilvon is a neutral party. Mitth is on good terms with Kiwu and with Irizi. "I'll comm Thilvon. She'll have a clue."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She has the heart of a lion" Vurass agrees. "She'll know who to call to sort this out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It ought to bother Formbi that his… more than friend is praising his girlfriend, but those two will never understand what he sacrificed to get them together in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thilvon is just awake, and Formbi is petty enough to wait until she's taken the first sip of her khaffa before he tells her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't do anything. Don't go anywhere. Don't comm anyone. I'll be there in twenty minutes." And just as she's discomming, he hears. "IF join circus, THEN expect clowns."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass calms his brother, who subsides into hiccups and exhaustion. Rocking him gently, Vurass' murmurs in a dialect of Cheun with Formbi catching one word in five. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's on her way." Vurass looks at him with such sadness that Formbi almost hurts for him. "We'll straighten it out, whatever it is."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurawn nods. "Could we put them in your room? Order some food from Bi'isby's - I think he and the others could use some sleep."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are naturally protests of being NOT sleepy, and Vurawn not wanting to let go of his brother. The food comes first, all of it colonial and the children tear in like little savages to crab-cakes, sausages, and (ICK) fried and seasoned fish skins. Formbi withholds the custard toast for last and the collapsing sugar rush that has them all blinking and swaying. Formbi herds them all into his bed, assuring them that everything's going to be fine and that at least two of them are trusting enough to keep the third in control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slides shut behind him and he looks at Vurass, rubbing tears out of his eyes. "So, what happened?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's a sister in our family. Born between Vurawn and me. Kivu'ira'lamis was taken at age five for a top-secret program." Vurass looks out the window, fingers twisting. "She was Sighted. So is Vurawn. So am I."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is enough to knock Formbi's knees out from under him, and he lands on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Taken? Taken by who? A hostage? Kidnapped?" Formbi is outraged and starts to stand. "I didn't need to call Thilvon, I needed to call the Office of Investigators. I-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass puts a hand on his arm easing him back down to the couch. "It wouldn't do any good. It was the CEDF that took her." He takes another breath. "Vuira was everything to my brother, she was the joy of my father's eye. And after they took her, Thrawn was never the same."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in his life, Formbi can find absolutely nothing to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They came for her and she didn't want to go. My parents were crying and this… bastard in uniform was holding out a voucher as if he was buying her." Vurass radiates pain and helpless anger. "They picked her up and she screamed as they carried her away, and I couldn't move couldn't say anything and Vurawn - at three! - ran after her, kicking the soldiers and our Patriarch." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know what to say." Formbi tried to imagine someone coming to take one of his little cousins or nieces. "Did nobody fight for you? Have you heard from her?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not a word. All we're told is that she'll have more opportunities than we could hope to give her." Vurass wraps his arms around himself, rocking gently. "I don't think that matters to a five year-old screaming for her kin to help her. Nothing's been good since. I busted my butt to get into university just to get away. I never dreamed Vurawn would…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door chimes and Formbi stands and goes to open it feeling as if he's been clubbed in the head. Thilvon is on the other side in athletics and hair still wet from her shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Formbi?" Her face pales to a milky blue. "What's wrong?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So much more than I ever imagined. Do come in. I have not the first idea what to do that wouldn't get me arrested."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass has a mug of tea and feels as if he's in a bubble where everything inside moves very slowly and everything outside moves really fast. Vurawn and his entourage are sleeping off their sugar crash in Formbi's bed, the distress pouring from all three damped down by full bellies and soft blankets. Thilvon looks as if she wants something stronger than tea when the tale is told, and Vurass sits between them. He's exhausted and he's only been awake for two hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"First. They're already looking for the Irizi girl. If anyone saw a girl in purple and white, they're going to come this way." Thilvon chews her lip and takes a questis out of her bag. "I'll check and see if there's anything about the Kiwu girl, too. Would they be looking for Vurawn back home?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, they might not. My parents are pretty absent at the best of times and this is not the best of times." He and Vurawn spent most of the last four years with relatives. "My kin are used to Vurawn wandering off." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All right, I'll call my Patriel. We're on good terms with the Irizi and Kiwu. Maybe we can get this thing all hashed out before the whole circus-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door chimes. Formbi takes out his questis and keys in the door camera code. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And curses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My sister." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Which one - the Patriel?" Vurass asks, his stomach dropping. A visit from Chaf'era'lis is NOT what this situation needs right now. Or any situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hide in my room. Under the bed. You're not here." Vurass says as the chimes ring again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you mad, Vurass? She'd never believe I'm up this early." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Would she believe that you didn't come home last night?" Thilvon asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Formbi cocks his head to one side and holds up a finger, conceding Thilvon's point before dashing into Thrass' room. Then Thilvon does something that shatters the bubble around him, the two worlds merging hard and bright with her kiss. She holds his jaw between her thumb and forefinger and it hammers from his brain to his heart to his-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he's going right to the door and tell whoever it is to cut that pounding and fuck off into a spring morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Thilvon unzips her top halfway, and tumbles her hair out of its knot. With another firm kiss, she pushes him back into the couch cushions, hooking a finger in the waistband of his pants and ruffling his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stay." She gets up, hips swinging and the view from behind is just as nice as from the front and she's-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nooodontopenthe-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slides open and Thilvon blocks Feral by managing to somehow take up the entire doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Patriel Chaf'era'lis. Good morning to you. I wish you and your kin a fine Waking Earth."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he is in so much trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mitth. I'm looking for my brother." Feral moves her gaze to Vurass. "I know he's not awake this early."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, Patriel. He didn't come home last night." Vurass has had to tell her this a hundred times at least. "He went to a party after latemeal."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This seems to go over as expected, with Feral muttering that if that boy paid as much attention to his studies before turning an amused look on Thilvon. "And you, fresh out of this boy's bed, what would your Patriel say? A colonial, however much a squeaky pen, bedding the blood-daughter. I daresay your Patriarch - your great-grandfather - might have something to say about that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thilvon, he has to admit, looks cool and composed in comparison to Thrass' own blush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And if I am? That's what merit adoption's for - keeping the bloodline strong." Thilvon's voice lilts. "Surely you don't buy the ship before you fly the ship."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait. What?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feral's smile is sleek and toothy as she moves closer to Thilvon. And Vurass… there is no other word for it… growls, coming to his feet and bouncing over the table. Both women look at him as if they've never seen him before. Thrass isn't sure he's seen himself before when his voice comes out an octave lower than usual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's not here, and since he's not here, you have no reason to be here. Leave." The low rumble that comes out of his chest makes Feral blink and back up. He punches the door closed with a curt. "Good day."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thilvon is still looking at him as if she's never seen him before, and her lips are curved into a very inviting smile. He slips an arm around her waist and she meets him halfway for a kiss that makes him forget to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Friendships are not straightforward at the level of the Great and Ruling families. Vurass is Formbi's more-than-friend. However, his more-than-friend is a squeaky pen colonial who literally fell on his face when he saw Mitth'ilv'onei. What would any good friend do but set him up? Perhaps a slightly better friend would not be making book on it, or collaborating at three removes with the Mitth themselves, but Formbi wants Vurass to… to be happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's complicated. He's blood-born and has the same responsibilities to his family as Thilvon. Vurass has not thought farther than getting his ass the hell off Rentor. It's not a bad thing to aim your friend high. He pauses in the hallway, watching them - happy and sad before he pushes away those emotions and enters the room with elegance and style.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Goodness. Vurawn. Right through the goalposts of puberty - your voice didn't crack once."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His more-than-friend does not break the kiss until Thilvon's comm starts chiming with incoming messages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Need a moment?" Vurawn asks, stepping away as she nods. "We should check on the kids anyway."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ba'kif knew that there was change in the wind this morning</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a beautiful Waking Earth morning on Copero, and he's been granted leave on being raised to field rank. Colonel Lebaki is no more, instead young General Ba'kif stands in his place. If he were a superstitious man, he would think the gods might consider him due for a leveling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This might be so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Ba'kif did not know was that his leveling would come in the form of a ten or eleven-year-old girl firmly holding the hands of a pair of early primary-school aged children. Moreover, the three are all dressed in Chaf yellow and moving as fast as small legs will go in the direction of the spaceport. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello, little ones." He is a hand short of two-and-a-third meters tall, and broad enough that his uniforms need to be custom made. The older girl has not started her adult growth run yet, and the two little colonials are tiny and solid-looking. "Where are you going without your families?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all of the hells break loose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy screams, "Run!" and dives toward Ba'kif with an air of kill or be killed. The older girl snatches the younger one and flees as the boy's kick connectes with Ba'kif's boot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he wore anything but his uniform boots, and had been anything other than a marine all this life, it might have given him a twinge. As it is, he simply bends down and picks the boy up as said boy gives his best impression of a wild pusheen tyom. From there it's a short run unencumbered by armor to seize the older girl at the base of her hair-bun. The older girl drops the younger who demands that he set down her friends and kicks him. Ba'kif reaches down, scoops her up and then proceeds to hold all three of them until they are tapped out and panting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now. We're going to find a place to sit down and talk calmly. You're going to tell me everything that's wrong today, and then we are going to start fixing it." Ba'kif ignores the sobbed obscenity from the boy. "And that starts with telling me where you're supposed to be right now, my dear not-Chaf little ones."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. In All Directions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>queenie-chi-cosplay<br/>*lightly banging my head against the desk* this was supposed to be a lighthearted response to a shitpost and now we’re all here</p><p>Continuation of 'The Lord of Misrule.'</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Again, SO MUCH STORY FOR ONE LINE OF DIALOGUE.</p><p>Prompt 75 “Just jump, I’ll catch you.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Friendships are not straightforward at the level of the Great and Ruling families. Vurass is Formbi's more-than-friend. However, his more-than-friend is a squeaky pen colonial who literally fell on his face when he saw Mitth'ilv'onei. What would any good friend do but set him up? Perhaps a slightly better friend would not be making book on it, or collaborating at three removes with the Mitth themselves, but Formbi wants Vurass to… to be happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's complicated. He's blood-born and has the same responsibilities to his family as Thilvon. Vurass has not thought farther than getting his ass the hell off Rentor. It's not a bad thing to aim your friend high. He pauses in the hallway, watching them - happy and sad before he pushes away those emotions and enters the room with elegance and style.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Goodness. Vurawn. Right through the goalposts of puberty - your voice didn't crack once."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His more-than-friend does not break the kiss until Thilvon's comm starts chiming with incoming messages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Need a moment?" Vurawn asks, stepping away as she nods. "We should check on the kids anyway."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ba'kif knows that there is change in the wind this morning</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a beautiful Waking Earth morning on Copero, and he's been granted leave on being raised to field rank. Colonel Lebaki is no more, instead young General Ba'kif stands in his place. If he were a superstitious man, he would think the gods might consider him due for a leveling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This might be so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Ba'kif did not know was that his leveling would come in the form of a ten or eleven-year-old girl firmly holding the hands of a pair of early primary-school aged children. Moreover, the three are all wearing in Chaf yellow and moving as fast as small legs will go in the direction of the spaceport. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello, little ones." He is a hand short of two-and-a-third meters tall, and broad enough that his uniforms need to be custom made. The older girl has not started her adult growth run yet, and the two little colonials are tiny and solid-looking. "Where are you going without your families?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all of the hells breaks loose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy screams, "Run!" and dives toward Ba'kif with an air of kill or be killed. The older girl snatchees the younger one and hauls as the boy's kick connects with Ba'kif's boot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he had been wearing anything but his uniform boots, and had been anything other than a marine all this life, it might give him a twinge. As it is, he simply bends down, picking the boy up as said boy gives his best impression of a wild pusheen tyom. From there it's a short run unencumbered by armor to seize the older girl at the base of her hair-bun. The older girl drops the younger who demands that he set down her friends and kicks him. Ba'kif reaches down, scoopes her up and then proceeds to hold all three of them until they were tapped out and panting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now. We're going to find a place to sit down and talk calmly. You're going to tell me everything that's wrong today, and then we are going to start fixing it." Ba'kif ignores the sobbed obscenity from the boy. "And that starts with telling me where you're supposed to be right now, my dear not-Chaf little ones."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The children are not hungry, they are well-fed and healthy, and as stubborn as any adult he's ever met. The older girl refuses to give her name at all, the younger girl with the curly hair is the Kiwu girl listed as missing, and the little angerball colonial says his name is 'Screw You.' Ordinarily any Aristocra-born child would be screaming for their Patriel, so there's an issue in the older girl's family and she was likely attempting to run away. The younger girl followed the boy - and she's not giving out anyone's name either - because she thought he ought'nt to be alone. The angry one crosses his arms on his chest, knuckles white, and won't look at Ba'kif at all but there are tears just below the surface of that anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He carries the kits to a vacant garden and parks them on a bench. The bastard gods that rule his fate set him in positions that lead him to deal with Ruling Families, Great Families, the Syndicure and all the beclownery that goes with it. Mentally cracking his knuckles, he focuses on the older girl and the boy as he begins. It's not going to take much despite the brave fronts. The little Kiwu is backstopping her associates like a pint-sized cargo cube magistrate and Ba'kif is gentle, knowing that any show of authority will make the two hard-cases double down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first give comes within fifteen minutes from the little Kiwu, admitting that she's Kiwu'tro'owmis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's a good thing you wanted to go with him, to keep him safe and bear him company." A pusheen tyom's trust must be earned, and this kit is only lost instead of feral. "Your family's worried about you. You won't be in much trouble, I'll speak to them and tell them that you were only being brave and kind." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wutroow nods, head down and fat tears splashing on her folded hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let them go. I don't want them in trouble." The little angerball speaks, still not looking at Ba'kif directly. "It was my fault."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's very brave of you to say, but it's not the whole story is it?" It gets him silence once again. He turns his attention to the older girl. "Aristocra." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do you know I'm an Aristocra?" She challenges him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your pronunciations are pure Cspalar for one. Further, you're too young to be a merit adoptive or a servant." Her face hardens, but she says nothing. He's going to let it stew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And you, a Rentor-born or I will eat my boots." The angerball side eyes him and tells him to eat something not served as food. "I know the dialect. Are you more comfortable with that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"An' I talk your talk, too, you giant flapping buttcheek." Angerball replies in dialect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not the first time he's been called a farting ass - it is the first time he's been called a farting ass by a seven year-old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What happened to you to make you jump in a cargo box to Copero?" Angerball is direct, so Ba'kif will communicate with him in the same way. "And why are you afraid of me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That temper blazes up and the lad almost spits fire. "I'm not afraid of you. You steal girls away and pay money to make everyone shut up about it, you bastard, and they never come home again. You're cowards and bastards all and should die on the ice."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both the girls are looking at Ba'kif with their jaws hanging and a need-to-know-only  program has just been outed by a child still in primary. "Tell me what happened."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the lad does, in detail, spewing fire and poison from the depth of his soul as infection from an abscess. He was three, and this is his first real memory, and at the bottom of it all is guilt that at three he could not stop grown soldiers and the patriarch of his clan. Grief for his beloved sister is there, too, and bitter recriminations that he imagines from her because a three-year-old couldn't stop the abduction. The two girls now look at Ba'kif with real fear and true anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ba'kif rubs his face from eyebrows to chin. He's on thin ice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Little ones, there are things I can't say because they must remain secret. Our enemies would use such against us, and those you want to protect could be hurt." Ba'kif can feel the pain rolling off the boy in waves. "I promise you with what you have told me, there will be changes, and no more tiny boys will have to remember what you do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's a general, and while the navigators program is fundamentally the navy and the admiralty, he can still raise a stink. War is a dirty business that should only be run by the fundamentally decent. Of course, the Syndicure will find a way to rework it, since these girls are normally made merit adoptives and handed over after leaving the service. They go willingly, often not remembering their family nor voicing a desire to return to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lord of Misrule is busy today, flipping tables and pushing down false monuments. For all Ba'kif knows, he's in the shape of a seven-year-old boy right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They've searched the apartment high and low and have come to the conclusion that the kids exited the apartment through the laundry chute after exchanging their clothing after raiding Formbi's closet. Pretty advanced for kids in primary school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now all three of them are having a nervous breakdown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass finally stands up and says he's going down the laundry chute and will figure out where the kids went from there. Formbi decides that he's not going out tonight, he's staying in and sleeping because this day is just exhausting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're ten stories up! Are you mad?" Formbi pauses, discounts the similar actions of his ten-year-old self, then resumes. "And as slender as you are, you're not ten."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the middle of this argument, Thilvon rolls her eyes, opens the chute and jumps in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass looks at Formbi as if he wants to deny what his eyes just saw. Formbi look back at Vurass and says by way of explaining, "Mitth." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass opens the hatch and yells, "Are you all right?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thilvon's voice comes faintly up the shaft. "Just jump! I'll catch you!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door chimes. Formbi whimpers and holds the hatch as Vurass surrenders to his fate. "Count to thirty and follow me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Formbi surrenders to his. "Give me a soft landing, please?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass kisses him, the sweet colonial fool, and then drops into darkness. Formbi sighs, and not for the first time he thinks that boy is going to make a regrettably excellent Mitth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His comlink is chiming as he climbs into the chute. Those kids better not get his clothing sticky. Formbi drops into darkness and resists the urge to scream. He's not cut out for adventures and wants to stop having them! The chute bends and he is launched into the naked air - landing with an OOF into a pile of student laundry bags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at Vurass and Thilvon. "The two of you are life-ruiners. You really are. There's someone patiently ringing the door upstairs and all three of us are going to need legal representation."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thilvon huffs, amused. "And the Chaf call the Mitth dramatic."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass pulls him up and Formbi thinks he likes this slightly feral Vurass. Sweet colonial boy is delightful, but one occasionally wants a bite and growl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only way the kids got out is via the loading dock, and it's a straight shot from the back of the building to the spaceport. They're passing the Nebula Fountains like a trio of friends out for a run when they're spotted by… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Formbi wasn't expecting that. A large man carrying two small children in Formbi's yellow athletic shirts, and the Irizi girl in a yellow tunic long enough to be a dress on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"One of you would be Vurass?" The big man in the CEDF uniform asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lord of Misrule is not done with them yet. Formbi has taught Vurass some fighting moves, because sometimes it's dangerous to be his more-than-friend. Using them on this man would be a very bad idea. Vurass does not have much of a sense of self-preservation. The look on Vurass' face is one of pure hatred and Formbi can feel his own bile rising as he steps between Vurass and what would be a very bad idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Give me those kids." Formbi holds up his arms and the little Kivu slides right into them. "I can reach the Chaf Patriarch with a loud shout." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not entirely an empty threat. The little Kiwu comes next, scolding Formbi that the big man is nice and promised that they wouldn't take any more little girls from their umii and apii. The general is almost biting his tongue. Finally he looks at the little Irizi who regards him warily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You look very nice in my tunic." He smiles to show he's teasing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Taking the clothes was my idea, Chaf'orm'bintrano. I am sorry." She inclines her head slightly and he replies in kind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now, could we all adjourn to a quiet and private place to have the discussions we need to have - if you please." The request is actually an order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And it ought to be on neutral ground," Thilvon says. "The shit is inbound to the fan from the Chaf, the Mitth, and the Kiwu at the very least."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hope that I might serve as an inflection point to that trajectory, young Mitth. A student flat will do." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Legend has it that the Lord of Misrule - or the Lord of Chaos - returns every thousand years on Waking Earth in the form of a youth or maiden. He pulls down false idols, causes wrongs to be exposed and truths to be dug up with them. He opens hearts to true love and sets the destinies of those who will shape the next millennium. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Formbi wants to kick him right in the balls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, they sneak into the residence block like criminals, and when General Ba'kif is sure that the path is clear, down the hall and into his and Vurawn's flat. Tea is made, everyone is seated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Call your families, I will call the Kiwu and the Irizi." The general says, raising an eyebrow at Vurass and Vurawn. "Is there nobody you want to call? Nobody to speak for you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurawn only leans against his brother as Vurass strokes his unruly black hair. "There is not one I'd piss on if they were on fire. They dropped us." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Family and children are everything to Chiss. Formbi can almost hear his heart breaking for his more-than-friend and his criminal mastermind little brother. The Chaf would chew them up and spit them out and Formbi should know because he is one. Mitth should owe him big.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ziara, before I comm your Patriel is there anything at all you'd tell me?" Ba'kif leans elbows on knees. "Why were you running away?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tear lands in her tea. "I told them I wanted to transfer to Cam'co on Pareline and they told me that I was coming home for Zisalmis' funeral - and not coming back to school."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Formbi thought sheer indignation might lift him off the couch. Captain Zisalmis gave zir life to the Ascendancy, a hero who saved thousands of lives at the cost of zir own and if zir young cousin wanted to follow in zir footsteps- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will speak to your parents."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ba'kif looks once again at the Kivu and opens his comm to Kiwu. The parents are on their way here, mildly hysterical, and the Kiwu representative is thoroughly snowed by Ba'kif praising the child as brave and kind. Wutroow begs to bring her friend Vurawn with her, is weepy when denied, and one the comm is closed, tells him how to find a ship to Sarvchi. In the end, she goes with her aunts, promising to see Vurawn again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they leave, the next comm is to the Irizi and it's plain that they want their blood-daughter home. It's also plain that they want to talk her out of any heroics. Ba'kif points out that just as many from Cam'co go into the highest levels of government as into Taharim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ten is too young for anything to be set in stone. I know many Irizi and a number of field and flag ranks from the family." Children panic, but even in the middle of panic and grief, Ziara stopped to help two children. "She is brave and kind, and deserves only your hopes and not your fears. I'll have the First Teacher at Cam'co contact the parents."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ziara pirates Vurawn out of Vurass' lap and holds onto him until the Irizi Patriel arrives. For a wonder, the feral kit is fine with it, tears only starting once she's gone. It must hit too close to the heart. Vurass is iron-iron jawed, and Formbi aches to hold him, Thilvon leans her head on his shoulder, then pulls out her comm. Formbi takes out his and clacks it against Thilvon's as if toasting with stardust wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let the shitstorm begin." Formbi opens the comm to his sister and flips his hair back over his shoulder. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Nest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The difference in human and Chiss sleep cycles.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Queenie's prompts:</p><p>3 “I couldn’t live without you.”  <br/>10 “I’m yours, in every way possible.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chiss do not need as much sleep as humans. A long sleep is five hours, and when ill or recuperating from injury one might sleep six hours at a clip, but human sleep requirements start at six hours and can be as high as ten. Naturally, when a Chiss shares a bed or sleeping space with a human, it offers unparalleled observation opportunities. The first thing that Thrawn notices is that humans make noise when sleeping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not snoring - Eli only does that when he's sick with one of the many human respiratory viruses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humans make noises like small mammals. Mouths closed, they grunt, trill, whine, and even growl with the flow of their dreams. Thrawn learned early on not to be alarmed, in time he's found it endearing - like a pusheen tyom insisting on having more of your bed. Moreover, Thrawn has observed Eli kneading at soft blankets with toes and fingers as he changes phases of sleep. Humans are also lovers of comfort when it comes to sleeping spaces, piling an austere bed with pillows and blankets, additional mattress toppers, trying to achieve a formula for the best sleep possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And once in that cozy pile of tactility, the little hedonists do not want to come out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waking Eli is one third bribery, one third caf, and one third orders. Further, Eli is generally nonverbal for ten minutes before his brain's speech centers activate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even that is endearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Thrawn finds the primary advantage of sharing a bed with a sleeping Eli is that Thrawn can say to him things that would be difficult when Eli is awake or even in the heat of their sexual activities. Thrawn is quite aware that this makes him a coward. He speaks softly, in Cheunh, his emotions swirling around Eli easier to verbalize in his own language.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You and I are called in my language 'two halves of the same idiot.' I'm yours, in every way possible, and I couldn't live without you. I might survive your absence, but I know that I would lose half of who I am - and who having you in my heart has made me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hard part is that he knows the time is coming when he must send Eli to the Ascendancy in order for him to survive. The Ascendancy needs Eli, his skills and talents, and it would be the height of selfishness as well as folly for Thrawn to keep Eli hobbled at his side. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Out of It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Imperial human-oriented medicine meets Chiss biology.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For prompt 18 - "God, why couldn’t I have taken more weight lifting classes.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thrawn injured is as imperturbable as Thrawn on any other day of the week. However, being the only Chiss flag officer - and the only Chiss - in the whole Imperial Navy means that medical treatment has an air of 'fuck around and find out - for science!' The toll is three broken ribs - when the medic was expecting a pneumothorax - with contusions to the liver and kidney. Bacta works on Chiss, but sedation is banged through the highly efficient Chiss liver. You can put Thrawn in a bacta tank, but you can't knock him out without risking an overdose.</p><p>Another issue is how long painkillers take to work on Chiss. Unlike the tank tranks, painkillers do work on him. But as Eli finds out, they work on him all at once. Eli finds this out on the way back to bridge officers' country, and Thrawn starts to… lean. He's walking at an actual angle to the floor, one hand on the wall, with this third eyelid intruding and making his eyes a deep ruby instead of scarlet.</p><p>Eli gets up and under Thrawn's arm and grunts, "Why couldn't I have taken more weightlifting classes?"</p><p>Thrawn looks solid, and feels like it, too. Chiss might be from slightly higher than standard gravity worlds because the man is muscled. Even with the man in shapeless scrubs from the infirmary(uniform a total loss) Eli knows what it looks like, since Thrawn has pestered him into martial arts practice at least twice a week for years. Feeling it is another matter. </p><p>How he wants to feel it is something he will only let himself think about in private.</p><p>"Vanto! Holy-" Pyrondi's voice and the sound of a trio of boots behind him make Eli stop. Pyrondi, Hammerly, and Faro are coming down to officer country after their watch and rush to him as he struggles with his unconscious Commodore. "Hang on. We'll help."</p><p>"I appreciate it, Captain. He's a big boy." Eli pants. "They gave him a whack of painkillers and they didn't seem to be working too well, so they kicked him loose so that he could den up a bit. They hit him all at once."</p><p>"I'm having a word with the medic after this." Faro rumbles. "All right, We're going to do a four-handed carry. Vanto, Pyrondi - you're both about the same height so you'll both carry, Hammerly support the commodore's back."</p><p>Thrawn says something in an irritable tone, but for the life of him Eli does not know what it is. He looks at the ladies and all appear equally mystified. </p><p>"Sir? That was not Basic or Sy Bisti." Faro steadies Thrawn's head, looking into his eyes. "Can you repeat?" </p><p>Thrawn replies again in the water-on-rocks language that must be the Chiss language and there is a distinct sound of an order to it.</p><p>Another spate of water-on-rocks and Faro decides to grin. "You might be giving orders, but you're not speaking Basic or Sy Bisti, or anything that I can pick an order out of. Hence, whatever it is you're saying, we can't understand it, so we'll just as-we-were and help Vanto get you into bed."</p><p>A blue finger wags under Faro's nose and Thrawn actually growls then gives an openmouthed hiss.</p><p>"Sorry, sir. Time for beddy-bye." Faro chirps. "Crew in position and lift!" </p><p>He and Pyrondi groan, hoisting a solid, jelly-legged Chiss and carrying him down the hall. Captain Faro enters the override code to Thrawn's quarters and Hammerly holds up Thrawn's back with her hands planted squarely on his shoulders. Thrawn, for his part, sounds as if someone is trying but not succeeding in drowning a large and exceedingly pissed-off tooka. They carry him in, protesting the whole way in Chiss past his outer office, into the sitting area, and into his bedroom where they set him down on his bed. Thrawn plants his fists on the mattress behind him and - from the tone - gives all four of them a piece of his mind. They take it at attention, and when he winds down, Faro turns to Captain Hammerly and Lieutenant Pyrondi. </p><p>"Both of you are dismissed. I trust implicitly in your discretion."</p><p>Both women salute, make an academy perfect heel-turn, and head out - Hammerly with something in her eye, judging from the wink that she gives Eli. Faro then turns her attention to him. </p><p>"Commander Vanto, remain with Commodore Thrawn, let the medic know of any other changes. I'll be having a word with him, myself. Is there anything else?" Thrawn's lights are going out, the third eyelid almost completely occluding. Thrawn throws a gesture with three fingers folded down. "Well, sir, I can't take that as an order. Get some rest, please."</p><p>Faro salutes, turns, and takes herself out, but not before mouthing 'good luck' at Eli. </p><p>He's going to need it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. New</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>MItth'ras'safis on a day when everything is new.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt 56: “I can’t willingly or unwillingly ever bear to leave your side.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thrass sits in the chair by the window, watching the tiny being in his arms as she sleeps. Mitth’oola’isaci is tiny and perfect and fits Thrass' forearm from elbow to wrist. Their firstborn is a girl, and only the curlicue of black idiot-hair at the back of her neck gives him pause. It's a Kivu trait, and she shares it with Thrawn - and she came out with an amazing swatch of Kivu disorderly hair.</p><p>Thilvon is sleeping, exhausted from the birth and the hours after when the tiny would not latch. Thrass' Sight told him that everything was too big and cold, and she would not be at ease until swaddled and warm. Now she's warm and contained, fed and dreaming. </p><p>"Mitth’oola’isaci." Thrass coos her name and shifts her onto his chest, lost in the wonder and utter terror of her existence. "I'm going to work so hard to make it a good place for you."</p><p>She stirs, yawning and starts to root. </p><p>"Baby thief." Thilvon murmurs, swinging her legs out of bed. "Who is the mother here?"</p><p>"I didn't want to wake you." </p><p>Thrass starts to get up, but she waves him back. "The chair's big enough, and I know I need to nurse." </p><p>Thrass hooks a blanket and moves to settle Thilvon against him. "How do you feel?"</p><p>"Tired. Lighter. My innards feel weird." Thrass puts their child into Thilvon's arms as she opens her robe. "And I think that I'm not going to get a lot of sleep for a while."</p><p>"Nursing packs. I can take a shift." In truth, Thrass does not want to leave his wife and daughter. "I want to take care of you, too."</p><p>Thivon's laugh is soft and fond. "I was warned that Kivu boys nest like mother yippers." </p><p>Though one is supposed to leave one's family behind when merit-adopted, Thilvon often speaks of his newly adopted brother with tenderness. </p><p>"Thrawn would be off with her in a minute. Little ones will imprint on him if let - or it might be the other way around."</p><p>They quiet as Thoolaisa nurses, Thrass taking in the smell of a new baby - a new being! - with something close to awe. </p><p>"When do they want you back to assist Syndic Mitth'ari'owmis?" Thilvon murmurs, head on his shoulder. "Did they give you at least a couple of weeks?"</p><p>"I took six months of leave. I had it coming and I really want to be present for my children as my parents were not." Thrass exhales. “I can’t willingly or unwillingly ever bear to leave your side.”</p><p>Thilvon's face is both tired and tender as she kisses him. "I married the right one, Ras. And don't you ever forget it."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Hurt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mesara in her own head is a bad place for her to be.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>74 "You make me brave.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bacta. The slick stuff holds her body, slows her movements. The sticky-sweet smell of it fills Mesara's brain, irritating her until she opens her eyes. Hey, she's still got two of them! She's full of painkillers, and tranks are slowly giving way to the Song and exhaustion. Someone got her good, she supposes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strange dreams of people outside the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Black.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bed. That's okay. It means recovery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Legs and arms feel present, but Mesara can't be sure until she opens her eyes. People she knows have felt their limbs even after they were long gone. Opening just one eye feels like shifting the <em>Lucky Cat</em> with her bare hands. Her vision is limited to just above her bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's awake! Dad!" Tashi. Tashi and Lares. Sweet Song, she's sorry for whoever had to deal with them both at the same time. "Mom. Say something?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Need caf."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she can feel their emotions go wild. It's like someone throwing an orchestra down the stairs. Just as quickly they lock it down, moving into her field of vision. Mesara's eyes trace the lines from her port up into the machinery of the medbed. Her throat is sore - she recognizes the feeling as the removal of a breathing tube. Then she looks at her husband and their daughter - dark circles, red eyes, tears. Lares' hand gently takes hers, pressing kisses to the back of it, as Tashi briefly presses her forehead to Mesara's. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How bad?" Mesara rasps, and the two exchange a look. "How long? Tell me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lares sighs. "Bad. About three weeks. And you've had to regrow a kidney, part of your spleen, a lobe of your left lung, and nine feet of intestines."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The Kivu are working with the Medical Guild, though." Tashi adds. "You'll be going to rehab in a week."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They had to bring you out early, my love, as your emotional state was destabilizing." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three weeks. She's missed three weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I need to get up. What happened? What hit me? And how do they know about my emotional state - I was tranked!" Unless. Unless both her husband and daughter were monitoring and advising. "Did you… see everything?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's like being in freefall, thinking of the things she's boxed up and put away open and undefended for anyone to look though. She was in survival mode until Tashi and Lares happened, until being a mother made her fight to give her child more than survival. Until Lares made her brave enough to love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Some." Tashi admits. "You were ready to fight to the death to keep those boxes closed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know most of them, but there are others that you keep welded shut." Lares brushes back a bit of her hair. "I think you're more afraid of what's in there than I am."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are times, Mesara has found, that holding onto things is more work than letting them go. Right now she's so tired, the physical pain creeping back in, the painkillers hitting hard, the contents of the boxes lurking, explosive and full of shrapnel. The people, the events, and her - young, stupid, trusting. She can't hold on any longer. Letting those boxes open means reliving the events and emotions, and she's just not strong enough. Mesara draws their minds to her, the ones she loved first, who loved her, and lets go of the boxed memories, lids blown off and spewing their contents in discord and thunder. The black closes around her again, and she falls away from the sunlit world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the blue, into the green, down to the black.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beeping. Tired. Hurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don't want to wake up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know you're in a place between living and dying, Tooka. You had a crisis."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mom, it's going to be okay. We love you and anything that happened to you, it's nothing that you should ever be ashamed of." Tashi usually doesn't sound this fierce. "How could I never be ashamed of you? You're my brave and fearsome momma. I'm so proud of you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You are the wife of my heart, a part of my soul. You are my Tooka, my beloved pain in the ass, and I would not be the man I am without you." Lares' voice shakes. Her smooth Corulagi asshole. "Please, live. Not for us, but for everything you've become in this."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dammit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mesara forces her eyes open, her voice raspy from the extubation, her vision shimmering from tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If neither of you happened to me, I would not exist. Not as I am now." The Song blooms to life, Lares and Tashi's singing with joy, and her own weak and feeble. "You make me brave. I am only brave because both of you." </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Two empaths in the wrong professions having pillowtalk.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>“I wasn’t going to do anything until you wanted me to.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mesara's forehead butts against Lares' breastbone again and he laughs gently; arms around her, skin-to-skin and the bed a wreck. "Poor tooka. Brain rebooting?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mesara doesn't even aim a punch at his short ribs. Her feel in the Force is at once soft, tender, and wildly disturbed; soaking up touch and emotions from him as a woman dying of thirst would drink water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I… what did you do, Lares?" Her sharp edges are blunted, the spiky wariness washed down. "I feel so much and some of it's yours and some of it's mine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We are what we are, Mesara. Empaths. Desire, pleasure, love - you feel what I feel, and I feel what you feel when you let me in." He might not have been her first, but he was the first to give her pleasure, the first to love her. "We feel the emotions of others. You have been an empath all your life, and you've been starving."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Augh. Brain not working." Another forehead butt against his sternum. She's not pulling away, but remains with her head tucked against his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course not, my dear, it's flooded with all kinds of fun biochemicals." He's never been the recipient of a soft glare, but there's no other way to describe Mesara's expression. "I wasn't going to do anything until you wanted me to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I… more than wanted you to." She tucks her head back down and her ears go scarlet. "I can now see why your wife might have found reason to have four children with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I make good caf and I'm back on the market, too." Lares understands the need for a tactical dissolution, especially in the current political climate. It's fortunate that none of their children have his M-count, however negligible the Jedi felt it to be. He and Gisele have always been a good team, and fond of one another in their arranged marriage. He's been lucky. "Gisele wished to take another direction, now that our nest is to be empty."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mesara does not taunt him over it, instead he finds a soft ache of sympathy from someone who has been left so many times. "I'm sorry."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Perils of Roommates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ohmygod. They were roommates.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>45 "Now, before you get upset, I didn’t lie to you. I just…failed to mention it."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"No." It's Formbi's first word as he comes in the door.</p><p>Vurass has learned his new flatmate's tones in the last three weeks. "And the 'no' would be for what this time?"</p><p>"Your eyebrows. Unacceptable." Formbi lounges on the couch, feet bare, and questis at hand. "I need to fix them."</p><p>While Vurass is certain that nobody's going to war over his eyebrows, and there is an essay that he needs to work on. He weighs letting Formbi have his way over how much time it would waste to argue with him before giving in to shut him up. </p><p>"Fine." Vurass hangs up his coat and pack, taking out his questis and tosses it on the dining table. "Let's get moving. I have an essay due in five days." </p><p>"Squeaky pen. There are things more important." Formbi tilts his head and looks incredulously at his boots. "You wore those out of the residence?"</p><p>"No, I left them in my locker and put them on just to come back and turn you green." </p><p>With a roll of his eyes and a hairflip, Formbi stands and points to the couch. "Sit. Stay."</p><p>"Honestly, I am better trained than your average pusheen tyom." Vurass strips down to his plain white undershirt, and tosses his tunic and student cloak in the general direction of his room. </p><p>Formbi sweeps away to his room to retrieve whatever devilry he's spent all day planning. "I'll allow that you don't claw the curtains and furnishings."</p><p>"Ugh." Vurass hits the couch with a grunt. He's tired, grumpy, and has had people laughing at his accent for three weeks. "And what exactly is wrong with my boots?"</p><p>"They're hideous." Formbi calls back. </p><p>"They're comfortable and they keep my feet warm." Vurass bellows, unlacing the footwear in question and chucking them in the same general direction as his tunic and cloak. "I hate cold feet!"</p><p>"There are other considerations, pretty Kivu. You dress like a laundry trolley accident." </p><p>
  <em> Wait. Pretty? </em>
</p><p>"But I'm comfy, though."</p><p>"And the messy bun-"</p><p>"It keeps my hair out of my face."</p><p>Formbi comes out of his room, pausing at the sight of Vurass stretched out on the lounge. Vurass has been having… complicated thoughts about his Aristocra flatmate. Some of them are Shower Thoughts because dammit the Chaf blood-son is easy to rest the eyes on and has a habit of wearing his shirts open. Like he is now as he swans over to the couch, smirks, and then-</p><p>Proceeds to sit on Vurass.</p><p>Which would be annoying, normally. </p><p>However, Formbi swings a leg over and settles astride and very suddenly those Shower Thoughts are an immediate and pressing issue. </p><p>"Don't worry, Vurass, I realize it's your first time. I'll be gentle." Formbi purrs as he leans in, some kind of device in his hand and aimed at Vurass' face. "If you behave, I'll give you something nice."</p><p>And doesn't that just blow Vurass' thought process right to hell because that's very close to a Shower Thought and there's a corresponding diversion of blood flow. </p><p>"Goodness, Vurass, don't panic. I've done this so many times." Formbi's lips are so close to his and that's another Shower Thought. "Close your eyes, pretty Kivu."</p><p>
  <em> Dontgetharddontgetharddont- </em>
</p><p>Something crackles and zaps <em> his face </em> and suddenly having Shower Thoughts outside of the shower and a wayward erection is the least of his worries. Vurass yelps and tries to jump only to be held in place by Formbi. </p><p>"Vurass, do that again and you'll have only one eyebrow." Formbi pets his hair. "Calm down. I have lots of experience."</p><p>Vurass does close his eyes as Formbi electrocutes his eyebrows, but his hands end up on Formbi's thighs and there's more to the Chaf Blood-son than meets the eye and under Vurass's hands is lean muscle and Shower Thoughts that he means to keep between himself and his hand but-! </p><p>The zapping stops and Formbi's thumb brushes the electrocuted hairs away and then there's a soft puff of breath next to his ear followed by the gentle nip of teeth at his ear. </p><p>Oh. <em> Oh.  </em></p><p>His body knows what that means, even if nobody's ever nipped him before and suddenly it's not about not getting hard. It's about not getting so hard that he shoots in his pants or passes out.</p><p>"I said I'd give you something nice." Formbi licks the burning tips of his ears then blows on them gently, his voice low and sweet. "Is that nice?" </p><p>"Yes." The word, the assent tears out of his dry mouth on a gasp, his heart thundering in his chest.</p><p>Formbi tugs his undershirt insistently. "Off."</p><p>Off it comes as Formbi's shirt joins it on the floor, revealing a tent in his pants and a nicely defined chest and stomach. Their eyes lock.</p><p>"I need to do the other eyebrow." </p><p>"You're killing me."</p><p>Formbi settles down and Vurass' worries about getting hard are blown to bits because Formbi is sitting on his erection as if enthroned. "You seem alive to me. Your circulatory system's in terrific shape."</p><p>And there's no reply to that because his brain is being drowned in a tide of pleasure and he can't stop looking at Formbi. Small head has booted the higher big head functions offline.</p><p>"Close your eyes, pretty. I'll be gentle." </p><p>Vurass surrenders to fate, his hands settling on Formbi's thighs again, his eyes close as he notes the high color of Formbi's cheeks and lips, the heat of him pressing down on his cock. Formbi rocks down and forward - a reward that leaves Vurawn moaning. The eyebrow electrocution goes slowly and by the time the device clatters onto the table, Formbi is lying fully atop Vurawn and Vurawn's hands are holding onto Formbi's ass as if to life itself. He opens his eyes, his lips part and Formbi kisses him hard - any pretense of delicacy gone. It's all want and need, clashing tongues and bruised lips for both of them, and Vurass pulls Formbi down hard, fingers in his hair, hips rocking up. It's as much grapple as grinding, the noises Vurass makes are embarrassing but if he can make that snootyboots prettyboy moan like that-</p><p>It's Formbi who escalates next, breaking their kiss with a pop, and sliding his hand between them, unsealing the placket of Vurass' trousers and his own. Yes, Vurass has seen cocks in the showers and is very familiar with his own but not rubbing up against another one and it feels so amazing, so incredible. Formbi closes his hand around both and strokes them both together and Vurass' pleasure centers hit critical as a deep, hot pull of pleasure hooks him hard and makes him cry out, whimper, beg for the orgasm that's making his toes curl in anticipation.</p><p>"Do it. Shoot for me. Make a mess with me, pretty Kivu." </p><p>Formbi's voice is as hot and fast as his strokes and he is he can't he is and the first pulse is his, and the stroke after that is slick with Vurass' semen, and Formbi follows and everything is heat and come-cries and perfect. He doesn't know how long they lie there, pressed together, wrapped around one another.</p><p>Formbi brushes Vurass' hair out of his face, pressing kisses to his forehead, eyelids, cheeks, lips. "If we don't move, Vurass, we're going to be stuck together."</p><p>"Mmm. Fine." Everything's fine.</p><p>"And you have a paper to do."</p><p>"Mmm. Fine." It can wait a little.</p><p>A longer pause.</p><p>"Building's on fire."</p><p>"Mmhm. I'll get right on it."</p><p>"Chaos' tits, I think I broke him." Formbi shakes him gently. "Vurass? Was I… ehm… was I first? For you?"</p><p>"Mmhm." His head is under Formbi's chin and the Chaf is quiet for a change, his arms wrapping a little tighter. So many things make sense now.</p><p>"You… you're my first, too. First everything." Formbi actually sounds… timid? "Now, before you get upset, I didn’t lie to you. I just…failed to mention it." </p><p>Vurass' eyes pop open, but the lush pleasure that's subsumed his mind and body only lets him blink. "I… but you said that you had lots of experience."</p><p>"Well. I was talking about eyebrows."</p><p>This Chaf. Vurass nestles closer, winding Formbi in arms and legs. You know what? They'll figure it out later. </p><p>"Mmm. Fine."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Internship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>On Csilla, they Disaster Boys and the Braincell Keeper learn about politics as a blood sport.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry to have been away for so long, but I contracted COVID at the end of February. I'm recuperating, but it's taking a very long while. This is the result of many hours in and out of sleep on the sofa, epsom salt baths, lots of tea, and avocado toast. Stay well!</p><p>Prompt: 66 “And when I come back there better not be so much as a scratch on her body and a hair out of place.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Internship</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Summer on Csilla is like the heart of winter anywhere else, and living there - while it's supposed to be the beating heart of the Ascendancy - is a lot more like a funeral. The city, according to Vurass' calculations, has maybe half a million inhabitants when it was made to hold five or six million comfortably. Granted, the population reaches around two million when the courts and the Syndicure are sitting, but that still leaves a lot of room. There's never a problem finding a seat on the trams, or getting a table for three, or having really loud tabletop gaming nights in the residence block. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing it has that Rentor and Copero do not is the quite literally murderous politics among the Ruling and Great Families. Yes, House factions are all over the universities and colleges, but getting expelled is seen as giving a black eye to one's family, not to mention negating a rise into the political sphere. That he is slated for merit adoption into the Mitth is evidently displeasing to certain parties, and that he is accepted as the future spouse of a Mitth Blood-daughter and the more-than-friend of a Chaf Blood-son are also bones for contention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, the Kivu are adept at throwing grenades if he and Raw are any indication. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just never expected someone to take it that personally, or to take it out on his friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass tested at four for the sky-walker program, but didn't make the cut - though he did not know this until an adult. Their parents refused to allow Raw to be tested, but by then the damage was done. Their parents estranged in anger from the rest of the clan, their sons called freaks for their abilities, their daughter gone forever. Nonetheless, he and his brother are still Sighted. It gives him something of an advantage in his chosen profession, and he can only hope it will advantage his brother the same way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all have to be in the Syndicure complex in the morning, and Thilvon when at home has a curfew. At the end of a long night of gaming and eating take-out (mostly naked) and extreme fooling around (completely naked). Vurass felt a flicker of something sly and cold, repulsive and debased as Thilvon was leaving. That something makes him offer to walk her down to her speeder, and Formbi gives him an odd look and offers to come along. He loves Formbi and Thilvon both, his soul is at ease in their hands, and he wants to protect them from those of ill-will, of whom there seem to be many on Csilla. Thilvon chides them all the way down to the speeder park and unlocks the speeder's canopy with her remote. Something made Vurass pick her and Formbi up and throw them into the blast shadow of one of the support pillars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is therefore very confused to wake in a bacta tank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Formbi and Thilvon do not allow him to remain confused for very long. They tell him things about himself. Many things. Then quiver their lower lips at him. Unfair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both families are upset, but there are many to point fingers toward, all proclaiming nothing less than saintly innocence. When recovered, Vurass takes a trip to the spaceport, and hunting around, finds a shop where the Rentor dialect is spoken. He returns with <em>dijki</em> knives in his boots and on his person. It's long since he did any target throwing, so he undertakes the brush up once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is always a next time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next time targets Thilvon again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her family insists on a driver instead of the freedom of her own speeder, only this time the driver attempts a two-for-one with Formbi in the vehicle as well. The driver does not survive, nor does the ambush party. Formbi and Thilvon are very well trained, but both are injured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the fight, Vurass noticed a sigil, and cut it carefully from the shoulder of one of the deceased. The Cutters are a faction of organized crime on Rentor, because of course the Aristocra would not dirty their own hands. He brushes off medical attention for himself, and when the families are turning the hospital waiting room into a game of hammerpuck, Vurass leaves a note.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am going to handle this myself, and when I come back there had better not be so much as a scratch on their bodies or a hair out of place."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Cutters exist because even in a well-ordered society there is crime and corruption. Vurass steered wide of them, not only because he was caring for his little brother, but because the pitfalls were too severe and permanent to even be reasonably considered. That doesn't mean that Vurass is unwilling to feed them a measure of their own soup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Formbi tries to get out of bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It goes as well as one might expect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear Thilvon from down the hall. If his throat wasn't sore from the intubation, he'd be telling everyone so many things about themselves they'd move to a rock in the Chaos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His points of understanding are as follows: </span>
</p><ul>
<li><span>Their pretty Kivu boy slipped away when the Chaf and Mitth were rioting in the waiting room.</span></li>
<li><span>He left a note with a hanging and unspecified threat.</span></li>
<li><span>He's been gone for two full days. </span></li>
</ul><p>
  <span>And then his sister Feral comes into the room, eyes wide. "Your boy toy's back. He came into intake handcuffed to a crime lord with a half dozen stab wounds in him and missing three fingers."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fighting with his sisters never does him any good, so he waits until everyone's gone to gawk at the spectacle before peeling off his telemetry. Moving hand over hand through this room, out of the door, and to the station with the repulsor chairs. It leaves him sweating, weak. Nobody has told him how badly he was injured. Thilvon whistles as he zooms by the door of her room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get back here!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Formbi reverses and helps her to peel off her telemetry. "Did you hear?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I did." She replies tightly. "And when I get my hands on him…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"After I get my hands on him-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're the only family he has-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Formbi lifts her into his lap and simply says, "Hold on." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hissing is… well… considered an unfortunate behavior, but it's also a very practical method to alarm people and get them to back off. Vurass hisses, and it's a habit that they have not been able to break him of. However, it does get people to startle and back up. Thilvon is a more intimidating hisser with her very sharp lateral incisors and cuspids, but Formbi adds a chesty growl to his. That and simply blowing through the hospital corridors at top speed manages to get them into the emergency intake - to find that Vurass is not unscathed and they're prepping him for a tank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What did you do?" Is the first thing out for Formbi's mouth. "And is he still alive?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Went to th' Cutters. Chagglengeged their <em>vatros</em> to a duel - if I win and dishhonornor him, he has to tell me who wants you dead and why." One of the techs is spraying the wounds on Vurass' face, but Formbi thinks his nose will never be the same. "I cut off three of his fingers. Now he can't hold a knife. Dishonored'm. He had to spill his guts or I'd spill his guts."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass' eyes close, his color alarmingly pale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He got me a couple times-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did he tell you who?" Thilvon's grip on his shoulder is going to leave bruises, but she's right to ask. "Who tried to kill you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S'not about me. Borsen famly." The anesthetic driving him under. "Pssbly bcause Clarr-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Out with you, your friend needs that tank. SecFor's got this wing sealed - he's as safe as in his mother's arms." The lead tank tech shoos the repulsor chair toward the clinic door. "And something tells me that you're not supposed to be out of bed." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We had to see him." Formbi juts his chin, worry a nagging ball in his guts. "We're his family."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He doesn't have any other here," Thilvon adds. They've both been working to try and remedy the estrangement. "We're both in his medical directives."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That they thought they'd never have to use, but here they are. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vurass is fully under, and they're about to intubate as well as do other uncomfortable things. Formbi takes them both out to the hallway, where they hold each other hard and pretend not to cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You," Formbi rasps. "You are getting SUCH a husband."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And you. You have such a more-than-friend." Thilvon's reply is sniffly and watery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And when he's well enough and recovered, both of us are going to be all over his ass until he promises not to go off like this again-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Unless he takes us with him." Thilvon finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They'll have their pretty Kivu boy back, and if the bridge of his nose comes out of this a little crooked, that's fine. Maybe in time they can kiss it better.</span>
</p>
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